Green
by John Hotson
Summary: ronald s'buttscat


I dip my fingertips into the clear, blue water and let it kiss my skin.

My reflection stares at me. I stare back. Do people ever keep their promises?

The wind whispers across the surface of my clean pool. After five years of cleaning, I finally finished. My hands, once smooth and chubby, are rough and calloused from the metal pool net. My muscles toned from years of scrubbing green filth from the aquamarine tiles.

_Green_—my body seems to scream with it. So much green. Sometimes I dream, but most nights I have visions of _green_. It sticks to my hands, my feet, my eyelids. _Green_, my mind chants numbingly, _green, green, _GREEN,_ how the green water flows, how it flows in you,; you are green you are here forever you cannot leave you have become what you once cleaned_. It's the inescapable truth that grips me with a ferocity that cruelly keeps me awake at night, shaking at the thought of returning to sleep. The only thing keeping me tethered to the world is the hope that She will keep her promise. I close my eyes because the ghost of what used to be mocks me. We're intertwined and it mercilessly hisses to me that She will not return. I breathe deeply because I feel like I've forgotten how to.

The day I finished, I sat at the pool for hours. Surely She'll come, I thought naively. It's been half a year since and everyday I've waited for Her. It's the sudden acceptance that has me opening my eyes and opening the door. Putting in the deadbolt feels like a goodbye.

* * *

_We're sat side by side and I rest my head on her shoulder._

"_When are you coming back?" I whisper._

_She's silent and I try to look at her face. It's holding an odd expression and my stomach drops._

"_Sierra," I breathe, "_when are you coming back?_" _

_Her lips move but she says nothings. For a moment all I do is watch her struggle. "When," she begins, "when you clean your pool I will fly over."_

_Suddenly I can't move. My limbs grow heavy and the blood feels like it's being pulled out of my body. Everything is warm and I can't speak._

"_When you clean your pool I will fly over." Her breath is on my hair and she brushes it out of my eyes. Her hands are green._

"_When you clean your pool," I can feel warm water rising around us, "I will fly over." The water comes to my waist, to my shoulders. I don't have to look to know what color it is. Sierra is gripping my face and I stare into her icy blue eyes which is at ends with the green around us. I'm babbling as the water climbs to our mouths. The green spills between my lips and my eyes roll back I can't breathe I can't breathe I an't b reathe I c _

_re a th I c n'ta_

_ b_

_ re_

_ a_

I wake up screaming.

* * *

The next day I go through with my routine—excluding the pool. I draw the curtains around the windows with a view of the sparkling water.

I make coffee and eggs and go to school. I stare at the sky. I feel bitter. I return home.

I returned to the pool two days after the nightmare. The curtains now stay drawn.

This goes on for weeks and then months. I fall into the tedium of everyday life and feel resentment toward seemingly small things like the sound of metal on ceramic, or the splash of water. I feel resentment toward Her especially. On some days I am tempted to open the backdoors in hopes that she is there; the threat of bile keeps me away.

Today, though, marks a year after I cleaned the pool and I pretend that that means nothing. I make coffee and eggs. I go to school. She is not coming. I look at the sky. I feel sad. I return home. I ignore the backdoor.

I go to my room and lie on my bed. She's not coming. I don't sleep. She's not coming. I rub my eyes and the colorful phosphenes remind me of her rainbow hair. She's not coming. My phone vibrates and I throw it aside knowing it is no one. My former friends became estranged as I pursued cleaning the pool. She is not coming. My phone vibrates again. She is not coming. My phone continues to vibrate with successive messages and I feel something light and cold creep into my head. She's…

I find myself in front of our backdoor. The feeling in my head expands as I reach for the door handle. My hands tremble and for a moment I feel intensely ill. The door squeaks open.

No one is here. I stumble through the door and premonition comes about me. I breathe, my back to the pool. There's a splash behind me.

"I cleaned the pool," I say shakily. I slowly turn and there she is. Her hair has been dyed green. She smiles and all I can think of is that her hair looks good. "How…?"

"I flew."


End file.
